OPHELIA

Chapter 12: Strangle Me!

The TV show didn’t entice me as much as my thoughts so it was hard to tell what the actors were fussing about; not that I cared.

“Mommy…Mommy….” A little boy with a striking resemblance to Pastor Man squealed as he barged into the house. For a moment, I thought it was my brother. I regretted being the child that wasn’t sick. If I was, I would have stayed with my mother and my life would have been better.

“Mommy…” He kept shouting but paused when he saw me.
“Aunty, I passed my exam.” He bounced toward me till he held my legs. His bright smile triggered a faint one from me. “Aunty, where is my mother?”
“Daniel, don’t disturb aunty.” Ma’am Veronica said.
“Mommy… I passed 10 over 10.” He ran to her.
“Wow! That’s my boy. High five!” She held his hand and they climbed upstairs. I watched till they were out of sight but his tiny voice still bickered. He had his father's looks and his mother's nature. I wheeled myself to the room to get some rest.

The subtle melody and chattering voice became clear as I blended with reality. The sun light told me it was morning—I hadn’t slept so well in a long time; there were no nightmares or breath shortages, just beautiful sleep.

My gaze fell on the wheel chair and it annoyed me so I walked to the living room. The notes of the piano excited me. I peeked from behind the curtains. Pastor Man played so eloquently but Daniel kept pressing wrong notes.
“Young man, go meet your mother.”
“Noooo…” He squealed
“Then stop messing up my chord progression.”
“Noooo… Daddy…Carry me.” Pastor Man took him up to his lap but there was no stopping the kid—he punched the keys aggressively; the sound was deafening.

“Daniel!” Pastor Man said as he stood up with the kid in his arms. Accidentally, he spotted me behind the curtain. I quickly retraced my steps.
“Come back!” He said. I moved cautiously again to the living room. “Why were you peeking?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t ask for an apology. Why were you peeking?” I wondered why he sounded angry.
“Nothing.” I bowed my head.
“This is your house; if you have any questions just ask. I don’t want to see you doing that again.” Yikes! His words sent chills down my spine; I gulped. “Do you want to learn any of the instruments? I can teach you.” He added.

“No I don’t. I’ll go back to my… the… room.” I came a day ago and here I was being possessive of his rooms.
“Young lady, say it.” His eyes dug into mine.
I squirmed. “Say what?”
“My room…”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ll go back to MY room. Say it.”
“I…I’ll…I’ll go back to my room.” I didn’t wait another second. I frantically left.

Perhaps that loudmouthed nurse was right. This uncle was scary. I sat at the edge of the bed and steadied my racing heart with deep breaths. Aside from sound sleep, everything about being in their house seemed to strangle me and I had only made one night. My stomach rumbled.

“Knock! Knock” Ma’am Veronica said as she entered the room. “Good Morning.” She almost sang the phrase.
“Good morning Ma.”
“How was your night?” The question rang a bell in my head. For the past years the only people who asked me that were my night customers and often I replied. “It depends…” I doubted that my colleagues got the privilege of being asked that question; I guess most people are tender towards the young or perhaps it was my charm or it isn’t that big a deal.
“It was okay.” I said.
“Good. Breakfast is ready so hurry up and come eat something so we can see to those medications.” I nodded. “Don’t be long.” She gently closing the door.

‘Breakfast.’—That was a rare word in my vocabulary. That meal almost didn’t exist to me. After a moment in the bathroom, I went to see what a Pastor’s breakfast looked like.

“Where’s your wheel chair?” Pastor Man’s voice startled me. I didn’t realize he was still in the living room. I was tongue tight. Plus the sight of Daniel in his arms felt... I was jealous of the boy.
“It’s okay, you can go.” He said and I snapped out of my wild thoughts.

A Pastor’s breakfast was truly a sight to behold. The table was rich in bread, eggs, French fries, Pancakes, milk, butter, chocolate, mayonnaise, fruit juice and a few other things I had never seen. For a moment, I wanted to run back to the living room to certify that Pastor Man was slender. So this is how a pastor eats I thought.

“Ophelia?” Ma’am Veronica called.
“Why is there so much food?” I couldn’t resist my curiosity.
She chuckled. “I want to surprise my colleagues with breakfast and I was not sure what you prefer… Grab a plate and pick whatever you like.” That was more like it. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the food loving type—I had three slices of bread and milk and I could go no further. If Bobga were given such an opportunity, Ma’am Veronica would have to beg him to stop eating.

I observed her as she packed the meal into lunch boxes. She was the friendliest person I ever saw. Packing breakfast for her colleagues—she was the nicest as well.
“Ma, I’m done. Thank you.” I said
“You’ve had just three slices.”
“I can’t eat more.”
“Why?” She stretched her hand towards me but instinctively, I blocked it. “Relax.” She said with a tender look that eased my nerves. She touched my forehead.

“You have to eat a little more so you can take your meds.” She added… G into E-flat and F into D—I knew that chord progression—Beethoven’s fifth symphony. My senses numbed as that night replayed—the radio was on, that pastor came to mourn with us after the loss of my father but my mother had taken my brother to the hospital for check up. I was alone at home.

“Where is your mother?” He asked. I saw him a few times at our house. He is a family friend. I thought.
“She went to the hospital.”
“Are you not going to ask me to come inside little Ophelia?” I still remember his smile. It revealed pink nasty gums and yellowish teeth.

“Let me sit inside and wait for her.” He sat on my father’s couch. “Come, tell me which school you attend.” He pulled me into him and before I knew it, my tiny body was overwhelmed by his hot skin and bad breath. I wanted to shout but his hands were over my mouth. Beethoven’s fifth symphony was my father’s best classical piece and the radio track that afternoon. The sound became a nightmare.

“Make it stop… Make it stop…” I whispered as Pastor Man played the symphony.
“What’s wrong?” Ma’am Veronica asked. I gasped and held my head. The hands of time seemed to turn back to that day. Most interestingly, my altercation with Prince was interwoven in it. I couldn’t tell the difference between both events.

“Daddy, her inhaler, she can’t breathe.” Ma’am Veronica screamed.
“What’s happening?” Pastor Man ran in.
“Her inhaler Daddy…Stay with me Ophelia.” She held my arm otherwise; I would have fallen to the ground. The song had stopped but I shivered like a wet cat. After I took the inhaler, my breathing normalized but the headaches resurfaced.

“What happened?” Pastor Man asked but his wife was as confused as he was.
“I don’t know.  She was having breakfast and then she started shaking and couldn’t breathe.”
“Ophelia, Ophelia…” He tapped my jaw.
“Let’s take her to lie down.” Ma’am Veronica suggested. Pastor Man threw his hand around my shoulder and led me to the room. I felt so embarrassed. Why would a simple song put me in such a state? They tucked me in bed and shortly after, I fell asleep.